


Breathing.

by bubblegum2000



Series: Finnick/Katniss short-fics. [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Long Shot, One Shot, Sexual Content, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegum2000/pseuds/bubblegum2000
Summary: Annie Cresta and Peeta Mellark are in the grasp of President Snow and it's taking everything within Katniss and Finnick to keep breathing. All they have is each other.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Finnick Odair
Series: Finnick/Katniss short-fics. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055330
Kudos: 17





	Breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is gonna be very very VERY emotional with major character deaths and just, hurt sex.
> 
> Finnick and Katniss are like my Hunger Games OTP so if this is how it went about in the books, I seriously would not complain. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, kudos are appreciated and so is criticism!!

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

The three words I was prone to hear whenever my body felt like shutting down. They tried easing me, subduing me, making me forget. I couldn't. It's not that easy. As the warm heat radiating from Finnick's body shifts away, I stand up to follow. It was routine at this point. Pure muscle memory. You see, Finnick and I were under the same circumstances. Nobody understood us like we did each-other, and it's what kept us alive. It's what kept us breathing.

Annie Cresta. The light of Finnick's broken life. The name he mumbled in his slumber. The woman who'd send tears running down his face. Finnick needed Annie like I needed Peeta, so we replaced them. With each-other. Warm water fell on our sweating bodies as Finnick kept me pushed up against the shower wall, biting my neck and rubbing his hands all over my body. His touch was like fire burning through my skin and he found a way to make the pain he caused pleasurable. It was a drug.

Lifting one of my legs to his hips, taking a moment to let me get stable, he thrusts himself into me, a moan escaping my mouth almost immediately after. His cock ramming in and out of my body.

In and out.

In and out.

I chuckle, thinking that this isn't what my Doctor meant by in and out. Finnick stops, raising an eyebrow at my odd change in behavior. I look him deep in his drained green eyes. The eyes that had less and less color by the day, any sparkle within them **gone.** It was hard to watch, but the nights it was just him and I, when he was inside me and I moaned his name, I saw a little bit of light left. Just a bit. It's one of the things I picked up on after a few weeks.

"We're bad people." I admit to Finnick, him pushing his body closer to mine, nose brushing against mine with a smile full of nothingness. "We're disgusting, aren't we?" Finnick says in the form of a question, though it seemed more like a fact. My lips press against him while he continues fucking me shamelessly, making sure to hit my clit with every thrust causing me to moan inside his mouth. We've grown closer in the worst way. Our turn on's and off's when it comes to sex were things we knew by heart. It was horrible.

It was occasional that Finnick would accidently moan Annie's name which always resulted in a groan of anger from me. I punished him. He needed it. He deserved it. Finnick needed to be prepared for when they didn't come back. My heart was already prepared as I practiced for the announcement every night. I could tell Finnick was the same, but he had more hope than I did, which isn't a lot. In between breathy moans and sloppy kisses, Finnick managed to ask a question. "Does this help?". His voice was dull, but full of desperation and worry.

"It helps." I say after moments of silence, clinging onto him like my life depended on it. And it did. I know we needed each-other. Finnick's eyes maintain the gloomy, dead look that they've had since Annie's capture, but I could see more light shine through as I said those words. Finnick remains astonishingly hard despite the multiple rounds we go through in the span of an hour. I don't know what does it for him, but It feels good every time.

My eyes grow heavy as my orgasm travels closer and closer, but I try to keep them open. Whenever I close them, my mind goes to Peeta. Peeta. He's alone. He's alone while I'm watching Finnick enter and exit my body shamelessly. No apologies, no speaking. Just emotionless, bland, sex. I wonder what he would think if he came back to this. What would go through his mind? Hatred? Betrayal? Would he try hurting himself? Would he try hurting me?

Finnick's breaths grows heavy and his thrusts deeper as his orgasm approaches. I could tell. I knew. I just knew. My finger nails dug into Finnick's back which only made him rougher with me, and that's exactly what I wanted. What _we_ wanted. It got rid of our feelings. The pain, I mean. As moans escape both our lips, Finnick takes one more deep thrust before unloading inside me, his head resting in the crook of my neck like I did to Peeta. We take moments to recollect our thoughts before washing each-others hair and backs, finishing the shower and drying off. 

Despite it being in the heat of the moment, I wasn't lying. It did help. It helped more than Finnick knows. But deep down, I'm sure he did know what he did for me. He kept me breathing.

-

Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen were the names called into a room with Alma Coin, Plutarch Heavensbee and Haymitch Abernathy. I ran into Finnick as I made my way there, and as I studied him I noticed something very off. He looked okay. His hair wasn't a mess, his clothes formfitting and clean and his eyes filled with light. Though, I could see right through them. It was a fake hope he'd created for himself. He knew that there's a higher chance of them dying than not, but I assume he's telling himself otherwise. That's more than I can say for myself.

"Have a little hope, Katniss." He says softly to me, a forceful smile on his lips. Whenever it'd quiver, he'd force it wider until it couldn't go any further. It was uncomfortable to watch. We finally enter the room where. Plutarch is staring at his lap and Haymitch is looking opposite of us. Coin holds a strong gaze at the door, even when we open it to enter. She only shakes herself back into reality when she hears Finnick clear his throat to make our presence known. "Oh, my apologies." Alma repositions herself to a more upright stance. "You might want to take a seat." She says, her eyes on me as this mission was at my request and whatever the news was, it would affect me the most.

"No thanks." I say, my voice cold as ice. I had no time for pleasantries. I just wanted to know if the people I lived for were alive. Finnick, on the other hand, maintaining his "I'm alright." act, takes a seat. One leg crossed over the other like how he would in a meeting back at the Capitol. As Alma takes a deep breath, I can already feel the knot in my stomach. The lump in my throat. The burning sensation when you're about to cry. Peeta didn't make it out alive. Gale didn't make it out alive. Johanna, Annie. They were dead.

"It has been brought to my attention that our infiltration team hasn't shared any reports or messages with District Thirteen in the last fifteen hours. I'm afraid none of them have survived this mission, but we're not for certain. We decided to tell you right now in the case that you had any questions. If there are any more updates, we'll let you two know immediately."

In spite of the dull shades of grey that my eyes were forced to view for the past few weeks, I saw red. Blood red. Why? I expected it, honestly. We expected it. How do I know? The color from Finnick's face had drained as he was already pale. Tears threatened to fall but his smile barely cracked. I could tell Finnick was zoned out and unaware of anything outside of his own thoughts. I turn to Haymitch, who's still turned away from me, his head slumped and his posture hunched. "Look at me. Why won't you look at me?" I ask the somewhat sober Haymitch. "Why?" My voice is low and husky as I use all my willpower and resistance to not pounce on him like I did in the hovercraft.

...

His response was silence. Pure silence. My voice grew louder, knowing full well he could hear me at this point. "Why didn't you save him when you had the chance. Didn't you say he was your favorite? Wasn't he your first pick?" I state. Haymitch and I were too alike for him to not want to save Peeta first. He was the speaker. He was the people pleaser. He was the better part of the half. Haymitch refused to even make a stupid remark, or scoff at me. I was beyond enraged. 

"You know we couldn't." Plutarch finally speaks up. That's what breaks me, and I snap. I begin to scream all sorts of curses, insults and names at all 3 of them. I slam my hand on the table, finally gaining a reaction from Haymitch, Finnick as well. Finnick's slight tremble from my outburst made me feel subtle remorse, but the rage boiling inside of my blood overshadowed it. I screamed. I screamed and then I cried. My audible ranting turned into unintelligible rambling and sniffles. My face was red and I knew I looked like a mess, but I didn't stop. I kept screaming until Finnick dragged me out of the room to prevent further torture to them and myself.

Finnick's hands were cold with a hint of dampness, possibly from wiping his own tears. I was sobbing in Finnick's grip as he continued to drag me until we reached his room. My constant crying began hurting my throat, so I bury myself in my arms and whimper, letting him gently place me on his bed before getting on it himself. I expect him to kiss me roughly, slap me, or show any sign of anger towards me for caring so much. Instead, he places his arm around my limp body and kisses my cheek. I felt a faint warmth within my body as if this helped just as much as the sex we had did. I dumbly believed Finnick did this for me, but when he started letting out uncontrollable whimpers and sniffling, I knew this was for him too.

"Does this help?" I ask the sly, sexual man I've come to know as still the 14 year old boy who just won his first games.  
  
  
  


"It helps." replies Finnick.  
  
  
  
"It keeps me breathing."


End file.
